


Let Our Walls Cave In

by CosmicJourney



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry Allen Needs a Hug, Barry Whump, Chronic Pain, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Barry, Hurt/Comfort, POV Iris West, Pain, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Iris West, Romance, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:04:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicJourney/pseuds/CosmicJourney
Summary: Barry gets hurt a lot.  Barry is also hurting a lot.  Iris does what she can to help him, and in doing so, she gains a deeper understanding of who she is in the great cosmic scheme of things.





	Let Our Walls Cave In

Pain is part of their lives, it seems- an intimate, deeply invasive part. So of course it would find them in their home, the place they feel safe.

Barry is in the kitchen, only half-listening to the television as he prepares dinner. Iris is on the couch, watching the local news, beaming with pride at the top story of the day. “The Flash appeared in the nick of time,” the newscaster says with obvious joy at the tale’s happy ending. “Thanks to him, everyone made it out of the building before it collapsed. Central City thanks you, Flash.”

“You are SO welcome!” Barry calls with booming exuberance, not turning from the stovetop. Laughing, Iris tips her head back over the arm of the couch to watch him upside-down as he works. That day couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Barry was in and out of the building in no time without so much as an injury amongst the potential victims. His celebratory attitude is well-deserved- and Iris loves seeing him like this, light and bouncy, his power a humming presence that fills the room with energy.

Iris lifts her head, paying attention just in time to catch the beginning of the weatherman’s report. “Well, folks, winter’s finally here, and it’s about to sneak up on us. Expect record-breaking lows tomorrow, wind and rain all day...”

Silence from the kitchen is what prompts Iris to turn and look at Barry, the sound of his bustling about conspicuously missing from their little domestic scene. Her brows furrow, seeing him looking at the television with barely disguised dread- even the purr of his power has soured, restless now instead of content. “Babe, you okay?” she asks softly, surprised when his body jerks as he frees himself from his reverie. He doesn’t answer immediately, and Iris feels her concern growing, wondering what exactly she’s missed- until she remembers.

“I’ll call Caitlin, tell her we won’t be in tomorrow,” she says, reaching for her cell phone. Barry has the day off from the station tomorrow, thank God- she really wouldn’t want to try and explain this to Singh.

“No, don’t,” Barry says before Iris has even pulled up Caitlin’s contact. He has his back to her again, busying himself with dinner without the same energy as before. “Let’s just- see how tomorrow goes. Maybe I’ll be lucky.” His voice is tight, forcefully cheery. Iris feels a bit sick, seeing how in this case “being lucky” means “not being in debilitating pain.” 

Nevertheless, she forces that same brightness into her own tone. “Okay.” If he needs to pretend this isn’t happening, so be it. She can’t begrudge him that, not when this is liable to be so much worse than any time before. 

Earlier instances usually had one of the two factors involved- rain or cold, rarely both. When it was both, it was the worst. Both meant she’d find him on the floor of his lab, struggling to breathe from the bone-deep _hurt_. One or the other was less severe- he’d be hunched over the couch, clutching his arm, or rubbing at his shoulder compulsively.

She’d demanded an explanation from him after that incident in his lab. He’d told her haltingly that the pain was something he’d lived with since long before she knew he was the Flash, and that it had never gotten bad enough for him to consider telling anyone about it. But the injuries kept coming and the pain was compounded and- he was just so used to dealing with it on his own, Iris, it’s not that big a deal-

She was very angry with him about that, of course, and had practically dragged him to Caitlin, glaring at him until he confessed.

Caitlin had explained it to them after she ran her plethora of tests. It was nerve pain, she’d said carefully. His body healed too fast and his brain couldn’t hope to keep up with it, kept interpreting pain signals from injuries long after they healed. As to why it was triggered by certain weather conditions, she said she wasn’t sure- though it wasn’t altogether surprising, many people with chronic pain reported it getting worse in similar conditions.

Barry had grimaced after the explanation, his arms crossed over his chest defensively. “So, what- it isn’t real? It’s in my head?” Despite the disbelief in his tone it’d been easy to tell he felt ashamed, embarrassed, and Iris ached for him even now. That defensiveness was second nature to him, had had to be, ever since he was a traumatized eleven-year-old trying to convince the world he wasn’t crazy.

Caitlin, with all her forlorn empathy, had understood. “No, Barry, what you’re feeling is very real.” Iris had rubbed his shoulder then, felt him relax incrementally under her hand. “In fact, had I been thinking of it, I would’ve warned you earlier that something like this could happen. For all your abilities, your brain is still only human, and it needs time to catch up. Maybe a long time.” She’d allowed that statement a moment to sink in before continuing. “It’s going to be tough, but we’ll work through it.”

Iris had watched him, silent, observing the anxious tic of his jaw and the skittering of his gaze across the floor. Never in his life had he given himself time to process pain, preferring to power through it, to not stop moving even when it threatened to crush him. She’d wondered that day if she’d ever be able to slow him down, get him to give himself time to heal.

She wonders the same thing now, watching him silently, the television a low buzz of background noise. 

They lie awake for hours that night. He holds her to him, gazes into her eyes the way he always has- like she’s the answer to every question he’s ever asked, like she’s the sun and the stars and the moon all in one. They really should sleep- but there’s no stress right now, no worry, no Devoe and no grief and for the moment, no pain. Iris wishes she could stay in these moments with him forever, but eventually his voice tapers off into a yawn. Wordlessly she turns onto her side and presses her back to his front, feels his arm wrap protectively around her.

“G’night,” he whispers into her ear, presses a kiss to her shoulder. She responds in kind and within moments he’s asleep, more worn out than he’d let on from the events of the day. In this moment, Iris can almost forget- and she feels so content she may just burst with it. His bare chest rumbles with the deep purr of his power, his arm is warm and heavy around her- and she drifts off to sleep too.

_____________________

 

When Iris awakens, she’s cold. That warm weight had left her at some point, the soft purr in her ear little more than a memory. She shifts and blinks her eyes open once, twice, reaches behind her to feel for Barry. Her hand lands flat on the blankets covering his chest and she keeps it there for a moment, just long enough to feel his shaky inhalation, the barely-contained trembling that wracks his frame.

Iris sits up slowly, blankets pooling in her lap as she blinks in the darkness around her. Barely any light filters in through the windows, the only sound the pitter-patter of icy rain draining out the noise of the city. It’s a gloomily peaceful scene, all gray and soft and cold, and once upon a time she would have found some beauty in it- but not now, not when Barry moans quietly beside her.

He’s awake and on his back, blankets pulled up to his clavicle. His right arm is thrown over his eyes, hiding most of his expression from her- but his jaw is tense and his skin is pale, and he’s shaking, and _god_ Iris wishes the world would be kind to him for once. His left hand is clutching at the blankets over his chest- she takes his hand in both of her own, holds it like he’s delicate. “Barry?”

“Mmm,” Barry answers eloquently, moving his arm enough that she can see his eyes. His gaze is red and hazy, but he makes an effort to smile weakly at her, just the slightest quirk of his lips. “Wonderful weather we’re having.” 

Iris smiles back at him, the exasperated little grin that she knows he finds cute. His hand is very cold in hers. 

Barry sighs, a noise that’s probably supposed to sound put-upon but instead rattles through his chest and sounds _agonizing_. “Guess today’s not a lucky day,” he rasps.

Iris glances at the clock on the nightstand. Seven thirty-two. Still a bit early to call Caitlin. She rubs his hand, tries to bring some warmth back into him. It really isn’t _that_ cold in the apartment- after the initial shock of waking up, she’s decently acclimated and comfortable. Iris imagines, somewhat fancifully, that this is part of his connection with the Speed Force, with Everything. Maybe the city’s cold is his own, just as its every trouble is his own. “Where does it hurt, Barry?” she asks, not smiling anymore.

“Everywhere,” he answers with surprising honesty, swallowing convulsively. “It’s- everywhere.”

Iris closes her eyes for a long moment. She squeezes his hand but it doesn’t feel any warmer, just clammy. When she opens her eyes again he’s gazing at her, searching her face with a fervent intensity. She leans forward and brings a hand to his cheek, gently caresses his cheekbone with her thumb. He exhales shakily in response, seems to sink into her touch with great relief. “Can you tell me where it’s the worst, then?”

His eyelids flutter shut as her thumb continues to trace his skin, completely at ease were it not for the undercurrent of tension that livens the air. “My back,” he answers hoarsely. “From when Zoom-” he waves his free hand in the air, trying to gesticulate some point. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Iris agrees, a frown deeply creasing her forehead.

“My shoulder, too. From Savitar. My hand- Girder, I think, I don’t know, I hurt my hands a lot. And my leg from when Killer Frost stabbed me. Twice,” Barry says in a rush, his eyes still pointedly closed. “But mostly my back.”

“Okay,” Iris whispers, wetting her lips nervously and withdrawing her hand from his face, feeling completely out of her depth. She is, at her core, a nurturing person- but she’s also a leader, a fixer, someone who makes tough calls.

There’s no call to make here. All she can do is watch and clutch his hand as his body bows with an electric spasm of pain that leaves him gasping shallowly, his teeth clenched so hard she can practically hear them grinding. When he can look at her again he does so apologetically, like he’s an inconvenience. 

“I’m going to call Caitlin and tell her we can’t come in today,” Iris says, shifting in preparation to get up. Barry’s hand squeezing hers makes her pause. She puts her hand to his cheek again, knowing it’s the only comfort she can give him right now.

Barry looks up at her through his lashes, the vulnerability in his green eyes stirring the deepest of protective instincts within her. That instinct blazes to life when he turns his head the slightest bit to press his lips to her palm, his breath a warm puff against her skin. She blinks tears away, kisses his forehead before drawing her hands away from him and sliding off the bed.

Iris grabs her phone from the nightstand and exits the room, giving Barry one last long look before stepping out. She sighs heavily, running one hand over her face. It’s still very early- Caitlin won’t have left for S.T.A.R. Labs yet. Iris dials quickly, listens to it ring twice before Caitlin answers.

 _“Hey Iris, what’s up?”_ Caitlin says, blissfully detached from the gloominess that is Iris’ world at the moment.

“Hey Caitlin, just letting you know me and Barry won’t be in today. It’s-” she breaks off, bites her lip and glances back towards the bedroom. “It’s a bad day.”

There’s a brief silence on the other end. _“Yes, I suppose it would be,”_ Caitlin says resignedly. _“Do you need me to stop by?”_

Iris thinks about it. This is difficult, definitely- it’s always difficult to see Barry in pain. But this- they- everything- it’s what she wants. She wouldn’t trust Barry like this to anyone else, and maybe that’s just the Soulmate Protectiveness talking, but it’s the deepest truth in the fiber of her being. “No, that’s alright. We’ll be okay.”

 _“Okay,”_ Caitlin says softly, intimately understanding. _“There’s not much I could do, anyway. You could try a heat pack- it could help a bit.”_

Iris answered her affirmative, not quite having the heart to say that they had tried a heat pack on an earlier occasion. It hadn’t helped, hadn’t eased the ache in his bones. “I should get back to him- thank you, Caitlin.”

 _“Wait, Iris,”_ Iris pauses, blinking in concern. _“We’ll be okay here. Don’t worry about it, boss.”_

There’s warm humor in Caitlin’s voice, and Iris- she blinks rapidly now, nodding even though Caitlin can’t see her, can’t muster up the words to say how much it means to her. Tension unrelated to Barry eases from her shoulders, a burden she didn’t know she was holding. Leading the team for six months, difficult as it was, had bolstered some great strength within her. Being apart from it, in a situation she can’t fix- it’s more daunting than she could have imagined. But her team understands that. “Thank you, Caitlin,” she repeats.

 _“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow,”_ the line beeps and goes dead. Iris drops the phone from her ear, gazes around her beautiful apartment with something approaching understanding growing within her- some great reconciliation of two parts of her being.

She returns to the bedroom feeling lighter, more confident on some base level. For a long moment she stares at Barry, the long line of him curled over onto his side now, hands fisted in the sheets that cover him. His skin gleams with a thin sheen of sweat even as he trembles, like he’s leaching the cold from the world around them but unable to dim the lightning in his veins. 

Iris slips back into bed beside him, sitting up against the headboard. He whimpers softly and Iris can feel her heart constricting in her chest, tries to comfort him by carding her hands through his hair. He shuffles as much as he can manage until his head is resting on her thighs, not facing her, his body half-curled inward.

The breathy little sigh Barry makes is cut off halfway through by a sudden spasm that tenses him all over again, forces a noise from between his clenched teeth that sounds like it’s been punched out of him- and Iris runs her hands through his hair, down his arm, scratching lightly at the back of his neck- until the death grip he holds on her leg loosens and he sags bonelessly against her.

“This really sucks,” Iris says, because there’s a million other things she could say.

“Yeah,” Barry huffs, because that’s all he can say.

He’s having trouble breathing. It’s coming in sharp, short little gasps. Iris figures it probably has to do with his back, or his ribs, or maybe both- but it feels so familiar she can’t resist commenting on it. “You’re breathing like you’re having a panic attack.”

After his mother’s death, he’d have them regularly, and Iris could remember several occasions just like this when she’d comfort him the best she could. He’d gotten better in high school but still struggled every once in awhile. Then, after his father’s death, it had all come back with a vengeance- he had nightmares and panic attacks and flashbacks frequently. The Speed Force had worked to heal that very most broken part of him, though- the attacks were rare now.

“Could we maybe _not_ talk about how fucked up I am whilst I am in the process of being fucked up?” he grouses, with no real heat behind it. Of course he would still be self-conscious about it. Iris rolls her eyes.

Ten minutes pass and in that time no spasms rock his body. He explains it to her as best he can- it’s a dull, bone-deep ache, but when the spasms hit it’s like being struck by lightning again, fire and electricity lighting up every nerve and squeezing his lungs. She strokes his arm and his hair through his explanation, wishing the warmth of her hands would in some way soothe him.

When the next wave hits, it’s worse. Iris doesn’t know it immediately, just knows it looks agonizing as he trembles and grips her leg. It’s not until the spasm subsides but he’s still shaking violently that she knows, and her heart very nearly breaks at the sudden warmth of tears on her skin. _“Hurts,”_ he whimpers, curling up impossibly tighter and covering his mouth with the hand not holding her leg.

Iris can’t quite hold back her own tears now, swiping them away quickly and rocking him as gently as she can. She whispers soft, meaningless things to him, hopes against all odds that this ends soon.

Barry sobs when it happens again but he’s trying desperately to keep the sounds inside, biting his knuckle hard enough to break the skin. Iris takes his hand from his mouth and tells him it’s alright, he’s alright, it’ll be alright, just hold on this’ll be over soon you’re okay I know it hurts just breathe keep breathing I’m so sorry this is happening but you’ll be okay-

Finally, _finally_ , the lightning stops. They’re both crying in earnest now and he’ll feel bad about that tomorrow, but for now he’s hopelessly beyond that kind of cognition, exhausted enough that he whimpers and moans without trying to quiet himself for her benefit. 

Eventually those noises taper off. Iris continues to stroke him long after knowing he’s fallen into a fitful sleep. He still tenses every once in awhile but the pain can’t reach him while he sleeps- at least, she hopes it can’t.

She feels exhausted now, too. Feels like his agony somehow sapped her energy from her, left her feeling weak and empty. And yet- he’s asleep now. He isn’t being tortured by his own body, is safe in her arms, and tomorrow morning this will all be a memory.

Iris closes her eyes and tips her head back against the headboard. They’ll go into work tomorrow and Barry will be sore from the electricity in his muscles, but everything will be alright. Caitlin will pull her aside, ask how Barry’s doing because she’d never get an honest answer from the man himself. Cisco will fill her in on what happened the day before and Iris will slip back into her other role seamlessly, as though she had never left.

Absently her hand continues to push through his hair. His power is purring again, not the strong rumble she’s used to, just a weak and rusty little sound- but it’s better than nothing. This will happen again and she’ll be here for him again. As painful as it is, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be some shameless whump and somehow it became an Iris character study
> 
> Inspired by that one crossover episode where Barry mentioned being able to feel where Oliver shot him- man, that's really messed up. He's gotten hurt a hell of a lot worse than that. Better write a fic.
> 
> Please leave a review!


End file.
